Demigods in the Middle Ages
by Katsa Prior
Summary: Hazel's mother exploits her. Calypso is guarded in a tower by a dragon. Princess Annabeth is falling for a sailor. Sir Jason falls in love with a pauper. How are they all connected?
1. The Cursed One

Hello fellow PJO fanDAM fans! This is my first attempt at writing actual fanfiction, so bear with me! Also, the regular ships will be involved, (no Perachel! Yay!) and I'll update as much as I can. Ideas and suggestions are appreciated! (And if you love historical fanfics, check out firebenderAnnabeth's story "Centuries," it's pretty sweet.

Enough with this mumbo-jumbo! GO READ.

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Hazel stepped outside her mother's home into the darkness. Fetching water from the well was a pretty normal occurrence, but the sun had set unnaturally early tonight. The house was snuggled into a hidden alcove right outside the outskirts of the city, so she parted the brush and stepped out onto the forest path.

Candlelight glimmered through the cracks of the wood and mud houses as she traveled past. The sounds of lyres reached her ears, along with shouts of "Vita!" meaning 'life' in Italian. She scurried over to the shared well and placed her bucket on the muddy ground. She lowered and raised the lever until her bucket was full to the brim, then let the well rope and its bucket drop back to the depths. Looking over her shoulder, she lifted the heavy container, being careful not to slosh any over the edges, and hurried back into the dark woods.

She nudged her bare foot into the crack in the door, opening it with a resonating squeak. "Mother?" she called, for her mother was not where she left her. The placed the water-filled bucket on the floor, and went to place more logs on the dying fire. "Mother, it's me, Hazel." Grabbing a long stick and lighting it on fire, she went around lighting the candles in the room. Silence. Hazel's feet matched the color of the dirt floor. She stood still for a moment, listening. Low voices were talking on the other side of the old wooden door. "... Et pacem in perpetuum." "Thank you. Thank you, Queen Marie Levesque. Here," a stool creaked and the sound of metal hitting stone reverberated across the rooms. "Viginti argenteis, twenty silver pieces. For letting me talk to my dear Diana." Hazel knew exactly what her mother was doing. Weighing the pieces in her hand, inspecting them with her cold eyes. "Hazel?" she called. Hazel could never outsmart her mother. She placed the stick she still held against the mud wall, and pushed through the door. Eyes cast downward, she addressed her mother. "Yes, mother? What may I do for you?" "Come," she motioned to the third stool, it being right net to her. Hazel sat and looked at the silver pieces. "Hazel, what do you see?" "Twenty silver pieces." The man was watching them like he was at a competition of the game called Tennis. "And what do you notice most about the silver pieces?" "They have been shaved." "How much, exactly?" Hazel knew. Don't ask her how, but she knew. "Three ounces." The man's face turned incredulous, red with the heat of embarrassment. "Wha-? How?" "Simply put," says Queen Marie, "my daughter has a gift. Now I have a gift for you." Marie stood, almost gliding over to a cupboard where she held pieces of Hazel's secret. Cursed jewels. Whenever a customer she did not like (or more importantly, tried to gip her), she gave them a 'present.' Whenever they sold the gem, somehow, someway, something would happen to them ending up in death. Hazel knew each person who had died from her so called 'gift' in some way. Had sold them milk, bought their strawberries, et cetera. Marie took her time choosing the perfect jewel for the gentleman, finally deciding on a emerald the size of a fingernail. She glided back to her seat, and opened up her palm revealing the gem. The man's eyes grew large with greed. "For me...?" Hazel's mother smiled a real smile, as if she enjoyed watching people's selfish desires utterly destroy them. "Yes. For you." She extended her hand out even farther. As the man reached for it, Hazel closed her eyes. She hated what her mother did. Hated that she exploited her 'gift.' Hated how she made her live. She had had enough.

She stood abruptly, knocking down the stool in the process. Neither adult paid her any attention, so focused were they on the gem at hand. Storming through the door once again, she started to pace. Thinking that if she could just escape, she might have a chance at living a normal life. A peaceful life. But first she needed to control her emotions. No more spontaneous jewels. She needed to get away.

With the swipe of her arm, she shoved the candles off the table in the kitchen, grabbing the tablecloth. She walked over the mat where she slept, folding up the blankets and spare tunics and breeches. She had no reason to own dresses. Running her hand through her dark, curly hair she went through the food. Wrapping up berries and a few pieces of chicken, a handful of nuts, and grabbing half of the funds kept in a drawer, she placed them inside the tablecloth, finally tying it onto the burned stick she used earlier. She shuffled her feet into her only pair of sandals, and took off into the night.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or The Heroes of Olympus.

This is a fan made story written for fellow fans to enjoy. :)


	2. The Prisoner

I hope you guys are enjoying this! These first few chapters are mainly for introductory purposes, and over time they will overlap and merge into one large storyline.

I'm pretty much just writing and letting the plot work itself out. But I do have an idea of how it ends. Any ideas, suggestions, corrections or plot twists you want to notify me about feel free to message them to me!

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Calypso rested her arms on the open windowsill, letting the stale and smoky air waft into her chambers. She couldn't remember the last time she saw grass, or even a familiar face. She was a prisoner in her own castle. Or should she say, ruined castle. Once upon a time, when Calypso was young, a battle raged within her castle's walls. White and purple cloth mixed to form a mass of chaos. Calypso had no clue what was going on, and watched the battle with fascination, her tiny hands supporting her face. Now, she was alone, abandoned, and trapped. A dragon constantly roamed the castle grounds. But the thing was, the dragon was not mean. The dragon had the strangest eyes. They were not reptilian, but something else. Calypso named the dragon Nobilitas, Latin for chivalry. The dragon had come after the attack. At first, young Calypso was terrified of the great red dragon, as it often flew up right outside her window. It blew fire in fits against the sky, the stone walls, and into the long abandoned halls. She had tried to escape, only to find her door barred by something large and heavy, and her room too high to climb down. She survived those first few days eating the fruit in her room, and drinking the water from her washbasin on her dresser. She oft heard cries of pain from men in the outer courtyard and within the halls. Sobbing was natural in those days. Except for her own person and Nobilitas, there was nothing to make a sound. Nobilitas somehow supplied her with slightly smashed food every morning, tossed through her small window. If she had the courage earlier, she would have been small enough to climb through to the stone ledge and ride Nobilitas to freedom. But alas, she was too cautious.

The flapping of large wings was comforting to her now. She had long used her bedroom curtains to make rough dresses for herself, using their rope to tie them together. She burned the wood that always came with Nobilitas' morning drop come nightfall, and used the charcoal to draw on her walls. Entertainment was hard to come by. Being of noble blood she had had some formal education, but her reading was poor. Art became her tether to sanity.

The few books she had in her room were long filled with sketches and smudges, the walls covered with images of her past she never wanted to forget. On the far wall, there was a large picture. One of a girl riding a dragon above the sea, hair flying behind, dashing towards a land mass. She lay on her back, hands behind her head, and looked to the ceiling. Black being her only color, she had managed to make a rainbow from light grays to midnight black above her bed.

She must have fallen asleep, because she woke to the sound of a large huff outside her window. She gently pushed her hair out of her face, and walked to the window. Nobilitas backed up a few feet, his face still blocking most of her view. "Nobilitas, what have you brought me now?" He cocked his head, and motioned with his snout to her room. "Back up?" she asked, curious. He nodded. "Okay, now what?" He spurted out some water making a puddle inside her window. "Oh! Water!" She let a smile cross her face as she went for her water pitcher, chipped and faded. She placed it in the middle of the puddle, and let Nobilitas finish spurting the liquid. Most of it missed, but the pitcher was filled more than halfway. She picked up the container and set it on the sill next to her. "Thank you, Nobilitas." She moved her arm outside the window, hand facing Nobilitas. He moved closer ever so gently, and let his muzzle touch her hand. He groaned, and tried to force something that she thought was a smile onto his face, but it looked like a grimace. He slowed his wings and started to descend.

"Goodnight, Nobilitas," she said, then looked at the setting sun over the overgrowing forest. "Goodnight, Calypso," she said to herself.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson nor The Heroes of Olympus.

This is a fan-written story and for the enjoyment of whoever wishes to read it.


	3. The Captain and the Royale

How am I doing? Leave a review! Right now I have a ton of time on my hands, so send suggestions or sticky situations!

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Perseus started to haul a length of rope on board in tandem with another crewman. "Heave!" he shouted, "Ho!" said the other man, Grover. "Heave!" It took but a moment to bring the heavy net onto the deck, spilling fish and the smell of saltwater aboard. Just because young Perseus was captain of the Andromeda, didn't mean he didn't have to work. He enjoyed working, feeling his muscles strain and sharing the camaraderie with his men. They seemed to respect him in that. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, effectively coating his black hair with seawater and sweat. Together, Perseus, Grover, and a few other men loaded the fish into barrels, then took them to the hold. "See?" Perseus started, "More hands, less time." A few tired smiles cracked, and Grover threw an arm over his shoulders. "Let's to get a drink, aye?" A chorus of ayes followed. Perseus smiled and added his soft aye. The thunderous sound of leather boots on wooden stairs resounded in the hold. Perseus rubbed his scruff of a beard, counting the total amount of barrels remaining for the shipment.

Seven. Seven empty barrels remained. Perseus had no clue why the King had need of so many fish, but he was paid handsomely for it, so he kept quiet. Trudging up the stairs, his thoughts and eyes turned towards the direction of land. His internal compass was never wrong. A girl with hair the color of straw came to his mind, she with gray eyes as piercing as the winds of a hurricane. He'd never met anyone quite as beautiful. Though she dressed in tattered clothing, everything else about her was immaculate. He had seen how she acted when someone questioned her, and how she was angry, so he knew to pretend not to notice. "Captain! C'mon Percy, or all the wine will be gone!" Perseus rather enjoyed being called Percy, as when it was said, it sounded like something he loved, the sea. "Oh ho, no finishing that without me!" He called, striding over the deck with confidence.

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Princess Annabeth grew tired of trying on dress after dress for the Grand Gala. She thought she must have tried on over twenty dresses, and finally decided on a plain turquoise gown with a bow. Her attendant, a girl oddly named Drew, loaded her arms with the discarded dresses and left Annabeth in her room. Annabeth strode to the window, looking longingly to the shimmering sea. Her beau of sorts didn't know her secret, nobody did except the princess herself. Her younger brothers were oft kept occupied with a tutor, as Annabeth had long since received the maximum education that was required for a girl of the royal family. When she wasn't forced to parties with her stepmother, she kept occupied reading. Homer fascinated her, as did Socrates and Plato. The Iliad had to be her favorite. The bright tans of the common houses, the greenery of the rolling hills, combined with the deep blue of the Mare Nostrum provided Princess Annabeth with one of the best views from the castle. A soft knock was heard, then the doors opened silently. "Annabeth? Annabeth, come here child. You'll catch the ague next to that window!" The queen, Annabeth's stepmother, gently but firmly moved Annabeth from her window and leaned out to close the shutters. The room, now greatly dimmed, looked cold to Annabeth now. "Is this the dress you decided upon? Hmm?" "Yes, stepmother." She gently slapped the side of Annabeth's face. "Stand straight girl, have my lessons not been getting though your thick skull?" The Princess wasn't sure how to answer that, so she decided not answering would be in her favor. "I see. Well, turn around and let me see you in it." Slowly, Annabeth turned, letting the queen look upon her and the gown. "Fine, fine. It shall do nicely for our announcement." "Announcement? What announcement?" Annabeth had heard of no such plans. "Your father has an announcement. I know nothing, of it." Her tone had changed keys, clearly signaling that indeed she did know. Once again, she kept her mouth shut. "Well, I'm off to find some new dancing slippers. Would you care to join me?" Shaking her head no to the queen, the queen nodded curtly and closed the chamber doors once again.

Annabeth lay on her bed with a book in hand, when the doors opened once again. "Hello, Drew." "Princess Annabeth. I returned the dresses and checked on the princes as you asked." "And do they fare well?" Annabeth's eyes never left the sentence she was on, pretending to not care, when in reality she loved her brother dearly. "Their studies are almost complete, and they themselves are getting their wardrobes ready for the coming Gala. Is there anything else you wish me to do for you, my lady?" She dropped the book to her stomach, gazing intently at the ceiling above her. "No," she turned her head to face Drew, "you are dismissed." Drew curtsied and mumbled a thanks, and left Annabeth alone once again.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson nor any of the characters as of this chapter. I only own the plot.

Please drop a review or favorite!


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